A Mercenary's Tale
by victoriadorian
Summary: There's not a job Fith would refuse if it meant getting paid well. For her, gold is everything, and Erebor's notorious for its riches. After encountering The Company of Thorin at Trollshaws, Fith is invited- albeit reluctantly- to defend the group on their travels to Erebor. What appears to be a simple task quickly grows treacherous, and Fith soon finds herself defenceless.
1. Chapter 1

Standing at a good nine feet high, it seemed impossible to miss a troll, but Fith had a sinking feeling that she had managed to do exactly that.

She hated trolls. There was no way around it. It wasn't just because they were smelly- though from her experience, trolls had _never_ failed in disgusting her with their perpetual stench; and don't even _remind _her of the difficulty she's had getting the smell out of her clothes afterwards- nor due to their lack of sophistication and charm.

She hated trolls because the pay was bad.

Don't get her wrong, she understood that times were hard, and that not everybody could afford to pay her generously. Moreover, she agreed that trolls were _not_ in fact a difficult species to take out, and that any fool with a sharp enough sword could have a good shot for themselves. But for Mahal's sake, she grew tired of being paid so little. It was a real hoard of gold that she sought after.

And yet, despite knowing the job's dismal prospects, she had still accepted it with little objection. After all, gold was gold, no matter how little: a proverb that she lived by.

But she had little need to complain about her potentially poor wages, for at this rate, she would be lucky if she got paid at all. Those who she worked for never cared about the difficulties she endured on her travels. For them, it was a simple case of: no successful kills, no wages; and right now, with not a troll in sight, she regretfully acknowledged that, unless she exchanged what few items of value she had left, she would be going hungry for the next few weeks, another lesson that she knew well.

Going back to why she hated trolls. In fact, if she were to really dig deep, she would include Trollshaws to the list.

This was not her first visit, much to her displeasure. It wasn't uncommon for trolls, mainly Hill ones, to haunt in these particular upland woods- which, to Fith's horror, was beginning to occur more frequently over the last couple of years- and so she was beginning to recognise certain parts.

Which is why, when she stumbled across the place where she usually rested, now suspiciously clear of any trees unlike what she recognised from her previous encounters, her hunter skills kicked in quickly. It seemed that her acquaintance with these woodlands had helped her big time.

Experience drilled in. Despite being weighed down by her ageing weaponry, as well as the basic chain mail that she wore over her chest, she stepped across the clearing silently, making no noises, not even with her thick boots.

It wasn't hard to miss the newly uprooted trees, and other clear signs of a huge and clumsy disturbance. These were clear indications that she had found her targets, which meant that she _was_ getting paid after all. A fact that was enough to put a smile on her face. Craning her neck, she noticed the familiar sight of a hastily made camp, with a fire burning in its centre...

"Kili, _wait,_" Realising that she was no longer alone, she slowly turned around- albeit with little grace: instead, rolling her eyes while huffing- with her hands held defensively in the air, now in the view of two other dwarves.

They seemed to be just as taken aback, though they were taking much longer to adjust.

"Who are you?" The taller of the two questioned abruptly. Unlike the other, his hair was extremely fair, reminding Fith of the gold that she treasured so much. Next to him was the other, whose colourings were much darker, though his expression remained unfazed.

Looking about wearily, she replied. "I'm a fellow wanderer of these parts. Like you, I mean no trouble. Happy now?"

His expression demonstrated that, clearly, he was not. He only risked taking his eyes off of her when someone else pushed their way into the clearing.

Fith felt herself having to blink several times in disbelief. Unless she was much mistaken, a _hobbit_ had just made his way through, judging by his height and impressive feet. She had only ever made her way through the Shire once, when she was much younger, and so while recognising one, she hadn't expected to see it in a place like this, not when they were so accustomed to luxury and comfort. In his hands were two bowls, making Fith's tummy groan at the sight of good food. How long had it been since she had a hot meal? Too long, too long...

Having not noticed the dwarves' reaction to her, he said, "Bombur's just made some soup. You should eat it while it's- why are we staring at-" Finally focusing on Fith, his voice fell to a harsh murmur, _"What is that?"_

Now finding herself being watched curiously by three beings, Fith thought it better to remain silent.

"Bilbo," The brunette said, turning to the hobbit, "Go tell Thorin that we're not alone. He'll want to know about this.."

Not liking the sound of this Thorin person at all, Fith interrupted him by stepping forwards. "There's no need." Gesturing to her beard, she said, "I'm just a lonesome dwarf wandering through these parts. I mean no harm."

Frowning, the three pairs of eyes fell from her face to the several mean looking weapons attached to her coat. Trying to laugh it off, so as to look less threatening than she already did (failing miserably), she witnessed their stares grow suspicious.

"I realise what it looks like..." She began, when a mighty crash interrupted her. Instinctively, they all turned, and fell to their knees, (the two dwarves having to pull the extremely confused hobbit down beside them), behind a broken tree, in time for a massive troll to walk past, breaking down several trees in its path. Seemingly making its way towards the fire, it carried a pony under each arm, something which caused the hobbit to stand up suddenly, looking mightily offended.

"He's got Myrtle and Minty!" The hobbit spun around, sending appealing looks to each dwarf. "I think they're going to eat them. We have to do something!"

"Yes," The brunette surprisingly agreed, "_You _should. Mountain trolls are slow and stupid, and you're so small!"

Horror dawning on his face, the hobbit began to shake his head violently, "N-n-no!-" Was the only sound that he could make.

Looking between them, Fith couldn't help but say, uncertainly, "Is this really such a good idea?"

The others, however, ignored her completely. "They'll never see you!" He continued enthusiastically. "It's perfectly safe! We'll be right behind you."

Nodding fervently, as if to counter the hobbit's constant shaking of his head, the blonde one said," If you run into trouble, hoot twice like a barn owl, once like a brown owl."

And with that, they pushed him in the direction of the fire, where a harsh laughter could be heard. Fith wasn't wholly sure, but she could have sworn that she heard the flustered hobbit mutter, "Twice like a barn owl, twice like a brown- once like a brown?" under his breath before becoming too quiet to be heard.

The dwarves were now scurrying off, talking in hushed but excited tones, in the opposite direction. Torn between taking on the trolls herself, and getting the job done quickly, or following the pair, she decided quickly.

Placing two fingers in her mouth, she whistled easily, just as she would every other day, causing the two to stop uncertainly in their tracks. Using this opportunity carefully, she jogged over.

Though both were taller than her, and probably stronger, she felt no qualms in scolding the pair. "You're leaving a defenceless _hobbit _to take on a bunch of trolls?" The blonde one tried to protest, but she continued, showing no mercy. "What a bunch of cowards. If you see fit to run off, and leave another to fight your fights, then feel free. I, on the other hand, intend on helping out." Giving them a final glare, she began to turn.

"Wait." She stopped, and turned back to face them. While the darker haired one looked amused at her reproach, the blonde eyed her carefully. "You'll have to come with us. Thorin will want to ask you some questions."

Raising her eyebrows at that, she replied defiantly. "No chance! I have no intentions of meeting your beloved _Thorin_. Tell him _khahum menu rkhas shirumundu._"

As she stormed across, following the steps of the hobbit and the troll, she heard the two call out after her.

"How dare you! We're not _orcs_!"

"I _do _have a beard, thank you very much."

That made her smile contentedly. She could just about hear them mutter darkly under their breaths, only being able to catch certain words, like, 'go to Thorin', 'handle her', and, 'I swear'. Not long later, she was joined by the dark haired one, who was following her at a close jog.

"Change of heart?" She asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

HIs disgruntled expression was fading, and in its place grew the amused one he often wore, she noted. "We never intended on abandoning him, you know. It was better for us all if we got back up."

_Ah_, she thought, _they weren't alone._ "How many do you expect to come to your aid?" She asked, trying hard to keep her tone apathetic, so as not to raise any suspicion.

"Oh, a good few," He replied cheerfully.

She would have been concerned over that, truly, had she not been distracted by a familiar sounding squeal among threatening growls: the hobbit had been caught.

In unison, the two broke out into a run, through the clearing, and towards a set of thick bushes. It wasn't difficult to hear the ongoing dispute.

"He's lying," A rasping voice called out.

Peering over through the bushes, Fith saw, to her horror, that they had the little hobbit dangling, dangerously close to the fire, upside down. He was trying hard to resist them, fidgeting heavily, but it was useless.

Swinging with particular force, he weakly protested, "No I'm not!"

_Three,_ she made a note to herself, _there are three trolls. _

But one thing was different to what she had anticipated. "Mountain trolls," She said aloud, much to the other dwarf's confusion.

Frowning, he turned and asked, "How do you know that? Besides, I though it was Hill-trolls that usually haunted here."

"It's part of my job. Anyway, I- _Rukhas_, what are you _doing?"_

With little warning, he suddenly ran out of the bushes.

"Surprise was everything, you idiot! Mountain trolls are different!" She called after him angrily. Groaning, and with no other choice, she too pushed her way through.

"Drop him!" The dwarf demanded.

Giving him a look of strong disdain, she muttered, "Could you be any less joyful about the situation right now?"

He ignored her.

One of the trolls, looking pretty pleased with himself, called out, "You what?"

"I said," The dwarf's voice was filled with vehemence, "Drop him!"

What happened next was not surprising, but by the time Fith realised what the troll was about to do, it was too late. With a loud, '_oof_,' she fell to the floor, along with the dwarf, having had a hobbit thrown at her. Ears ringing, head pounding, she groaned, pushed the hobbit away, and dragged herself to her feet.

Fith felt as rough as she would after a night of drinking. Trying to shake her head, as if to unclog her mind, she lifted her sword defiantly at the trolls, took a couple of unbalanced steps and then, to her dismay, fell back over again.

Beside her, the dwarf and hobbit were encountering the same problem, and on her other side- she rolled over- the three trolls were slowly moving towards them, each with a particularly malicious look in their eye. Cursing under her breath, she slammed her head back down on the ground.

"I _told_ you that surprise was key. Now look!" She hissed, reaching for her sword, which had been thrown afar by the impact.

All three collectively groaned in unison as the shadows of their assailants covered them.

_This was it_, Fith thought. _I'm going to die in the hands of three dimwitted trolls, along with a fool and a hobbit. I really_, really _hate trolls, right now._

**Notes:**

_khahum menu rkhas shirumundu - Your clan are beardless orcs_

_Rukhas - Orcs_

**I wasn't originally going to split this scene in half, but ****_hot damn, _****it's long! **

**Thank you for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

And yet, the trolls never attacked. In fact, to Fith's relief, they never made it a step further. Unbeknownst to them all- well, except the brunette dwarf perhaps- his so called back up had arrived. Taking the form of a group of dwarves, they had each yelled battle cries at the top of their voices, all the while pushing their way through the bushes and into the clearing.

Surprise made the trolls stop in their tracks involuntarily- a fact that made Fith want to point out to her accomplice for the sake of being right- and it seemed that all they could do was stare nonplussed at their oncoming assailants.

"Here," Focusing back to her own situation, an unrecognisable face (with a killer hair do) offered her his hand. She took it, though not with enthusiasm, as a means to reinstate her independence. Just the idea of a warm inn, with a burning fire, serving hot soup, that stood countless of miles away from this lot, was enough to drive Fith towards the nearest troll.

On the way, she grabbed her sword, and at the touch of her own means of protection, she felt safer, and more powerful. She had always been freaked out at the idea of being defenceless, and the huge swell of dwarves surrounding her was already stressing her out. She didn't imagine there would be so many, not even when that dwarf had warned her, and not ones so well equipped.

To be fighting alongside them was strange enough. It had been a long time since working with a group of dwarves, and it brought back unwanted memories. Still, she couldn't help notice the advantage of having help. These trolls in particular seemed to take little damage, no matter what the group did. Time after time she would strike one's leg and yet, still, it would not fall.

All of this was exhausting, and Fith- unable to speak from exhaustion- slowed to a stop (though taking care not to get trampled by the troll running away, followed by several angry looking dwarves next to her). The way this group fought was almost admirable. Every move was calculated. When one dwarf fell, another took its place. Fith was not one to regard highly of others, but their teamwork skills were exceptional. Though she hadn't seen the hobbit in a while...

Her thoughts were interrupted by a rough hand grabbing the crook of her elbow and throwing her back. Not exactly happy to find herself on the floor for the second time that day, she would have exclaimed angrily- after all, she was in no mood- had she not seen a troll's heavy fist land exactly where she had stood moments before. In its wake, two axes followed, earning a screech from the troll, who was nursing its hand carefully.

"That could have been your _head_," The dwarf growled, glaring at her. Speechless, she could only gape at him in response as he turned back to the fight. This action, however, was short-lived when the cry of, "Bilbo!" was sounded.

_"No!" _

Sweating profusely, the hobbit was being stretched out by two trolls, having been caught. Terrified, he was unable to blink. Fith scrambled to her feet.

"Lay down your arms," The other troll demanded, gesturing to the hobbit's predicament with a nasty smile, "Or we'll rip his off!"

Everyone else turned to look at this one dwarf in particular, and so Fith thought it fitting to do the same. They all looked as uncertain as she felt: though a part of her wanted to resume fighting, and end this awkward experience for once and for all, the other knew that she wouldn't want a dead hobbit on her conscience.

Sending the hobbit a particularly frustrated look, the dwarf planted his sword firmly into the ground. In canon- an unenthusiastic one at that- the others too dropped their swords and other weapons, though not without moaning. Last of them all, Fith only agreed when they glared at her. Fighting the urge to curse under her breath, she threw her sword to the ground angrily.

And just look at where that got her: stuffed in a foul smelling sack- undoubtedly preowned, much to her horror- along with these fools, all the while watching the other half being slowly roasted.

Her job had taken the most _unexpected _turn.

"Don't bother cooking them," She heard one of the trolls say, "Let's just sit on them, and squash them into jelly!"

Looking offended, the other rebuked him, saying, "They should be sautéed and grilled with a sprinkle of sage."

Fith was not the only one to raise an eyebrow in confusion at this.

Next to her, the dwarf that she had already shared _one _near death experience with, was trying hard to wriggle his way out of the sack, much to her irritation.

"Accept your fate, all right?" She snapped. "It's bad enough that I'm having to share my last moments with you fools, don't make it any worse."

That made him stop for a few moments. But it wasn't long until he resumed fidgeting.

"_Ergh,_" She groaned. "You keep _knocking_ me. Stop it!"

"_Never mind the seasoning_;" One troll said abruptly, preventing the dwarf from saying anything,"We ain't got all night! Dawn ain't far away, so let's get a move on. I don't fancy being turned to stone."

Though she couldn't see from here, Fith was able to hear the hobbit call out desperately.

"_Wait!_" He cried. "You are making a _terrible_ mistake."

A dwarf on the spit was able to stop yelling curses long enough to warn the hobbit: "You can't reason with them, they're half-wits!"

"_Half-wits? _What does that make us?" Another cried.

Fith managed to get a clearer view of the hobbit now, as, somehow, he had managed to get on his feet, despite being tied up in a similar looking- and smelling- sack.

"Uh, I meant with the, uh, with, uh, with the seasoning," He continued.

While the other trolls dismissed him carelessly, the other, who seemed to have taken the role of the chef, leaned in, genuinely curious.

"What about the seasoning?"

The hobbit sniffed. "Well have you smelt them? You're going to need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up."

Fith was not alone in hurling curses at him.

"Traitor!"

"Damn you!"

"_Gelek menu caragu rukhs!"_

She felt sorry that she wasn't any closer to the hobbit. The urge to kick him hard was _especially_ high at that moment.

From afar, one of the more cynical trolls asked, "What do you know about cooking dwarf?"

"Shut up! And let the, uh, burglar hobbit talk."

And so he did. "Uh, th- the secret to cooking dwarf is, um-"

"Traitor!" Someone yelled.

"_Yes?_ Come on."

"It's, uh-"

"_Tell us the secret."_

Sounding exasperated, the hobbit said, "Ye-Yes, I'm_ telling _you, the secret is to..." He froze, as if thinking hard, before turning to where Fith and the others were glaring at him. Looking almost apologetic, he said, "To _skin them first!_"

"Tom, get me the filleting knife."

As far as Fith knew, trolls had only _two_ key moods: hunger and anger, which would often occur at the same time. Not in her experience had she seen one so happy, but the hobbit's words had certainly cheered it up. This wasn't the case with the rest of the group.

"If I get you, you little-"

"I won't forget that!"

Their threats didn't fall on deaf ears. The hobbit looked, Fith noted with glee, extremely nervous.

"What a load of rubbish," The cynical troll exclaimed, much to the chef one's irritation. "I've eaten plenty with their skins on. Scuff them, I say, boots and all."

The quiet one nodded enthusiastically. "'E's right! Nothing wrong with a bit of raw dwarf! Nice and crunchy," he said, grabbing hold of the biggest dwarf I had ever seen, and dangling him upside down. We all watched horrified.

"No! Not- not that one, he's- he's infected!"

Everybody turned to stare at him, some with greater difficulty than others (considering the split/bag situation).

Almost uncertainly, he said, "Yeah, he's got worms in his... tubes."

Disgusted, the troll threw him back on top of the others with a screech. This was probably the worst point of the evening for Fith. She was pretty certain that her rib had been snapped under the weight.

"In fact!" The hobbit said, sounding more confident. "They all have. They're infested with parasites. it's a terrible business; I wouldn't risk it, I really wouldn't."

First, he tried to have the lot skinned, and now he _insults_ them. Fith had never killed a hobbit before, but had she been given the chance, she would have changed that.

"Parasites, did he say parasites?" One of the dwarves hissed.

It seemed that they were just as insulted.

"We don't have parasites!" The one beside her yelled, having stopped fidgeting just for this. "_You_ have parasites!"

Almost gasping, another cried, "What are you talking about, laddie?"

In turn, each dwarf chimed in about how they don't have parasites, and how Bilbo was, in fact, a fool. It wasn't until the 'leader' started up a chain of kicks did they stop. Even Fith grew to understand. The hobbit was trying to save them.

"I've got parasites as big as my arm."

"Mine are the biggest parasites, I've got huge parasites!"

"We're riddled."

"Yes, I'm riddled."

"Yes we are. Badly!"

Something about this had grown amusing to Fith. Involuntarily, she began to chuckle at their words. This group seemed so proud and mighty, and to be saying that, well... This caught the dwarf next to her's attention, and he tried to poke her through the sack.

"Go on," He encouraged her. "It's your turn."

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes- which were watering heavily- she weakly cried, "My parasites puts all these to shame, they're that big," before collapsing back into giggles.

The troll, in contrast, was _not_ amused. "What would you have us do, then, let 'em all go?"

As if thinking about it, the hobbit said, "Well..."

"You think I don't know what you're up to?" He bellowed. "This little ferret is taking us for fools!"

"Ferret?" The hobbit cried, clearly offended.

"Fools?" The troll repeated in a similar tone.

It was not a good position to be in. Fith sobered up pretty quickly. The trolls looked pretty angry, and- despite all the dwarf's attempts- there had been no escaping the sacks.

It mattered little, however. For a figure of a tall man, a wizard, perhaps, stood upon a large rock above the clearing, holding a staff over his head.

"The dawn will take you all!" He yelled impressively.

"Who's that?" One of the trolls asked.

"No idea."

"Can we eat 'im too?"

Striking the rock with his staff, everyone gaped as it split in half. This swift movement had allowed the sun behind him to pour into the clearing, and at its touch, the trolls began to turn into stone, all the while howling in pain. In just seconds, they were rock-hard, and no longer a threat. The dwarves- including Fith, of course- cheered.

Things moved pretty slowly after that. Having stayed long enough to help retrieve those from the spit and help hand out various pieces of equipment back to their owners, Fith found herself being beckoned by their saviour- an actual wizard- and possibly the proudest looking dwarf she had ever seen to join their conversation.

She felt extremely aware that both were sizing up. The wizard- who was a lot taller than she first imagined- was peering at her from under his large hat, while the dwarf simply glared at her.

"_Yes?_" She asked, conscious of the fact that she sounded pretty cranky.

"My associate and I were just speaking of you," The wizard started, "No need to worry, of course. We just wondered about who you are and why you were found lurking in these parts. Would you care to tell us?"

Sensing her chagrin, he continued quickly, "It's not common for a lone dwarf to be wondering such parts, you see."

She had been anticipating this. They each were as prying as the next.

"My name is Fith," She said cooly, "And I'm a mercenary, currently on hire by Beren to hunt down those very trolls."

The dwarf seemed to flinch at the word, 'mercenary'. Instinctively, he spat at the ground. Turning on the wizard, he hissed, "I knew she was trouble."

"Now, now, Thorin," He said in a soothing tone, "She helped us..."

"I recall no such thing." The dwarf said darkly.

"Had your dwarf remained composed earlier on today, then I would have been able to sort this out myself, _and_ alone, thank you," She retorted.

The wizard raised his hand while frowning. "Mercenary or not," He began, but was soon interrupted.

"I will not stand for this, Gandalf! They're despicable. Easily bought for the right price-"

"Thorin, please-"

"-While we laboured in the villages of men, finding work where we could, the likes of her had abandoned our group in search for gold," His voice grew deeper as he became angrier, " When we should have been regrouping to reclaim Erebor, her kind demanded to be paid for their swords for such task. They have no honour. I want her gone."

Hackles clearly raised, she glared at him. "I wouldn't be so concerned, if I were you. I don't intend on staying here and being insulted for much longer.

"Well, actually, Thorin," The wizard said quietly. "I think it would be for the best if we invited her to the group."

Both dwarves turned to look at him in horror.

"Now, really. We could do with an extra sword, and an extra pair of hands to use it. Things are not what they used to be, and I have my doubts with this quest." The wizard said. "If I am right, trolls will not be the only danger that we embark, and you all barely made it out the last time. I would not be so quick to insult, Thorin, nor to disagree, er, Fith."

Though the other dwarf looked slightly comforted, Fith felt completely out of it. "You're talking to him," She pointed out to the wizard, "But what about me? I don't even know what this quest _is_, nor why I should be bound to help these fools."

"Ah, yes," The wizard smiled. "I was just getting onto that. Let me introduce you to our quest."

And so he did, though it took him a while. It was quite complex, and Fith found herself growing increasingly flummoxed as new details were included. The dwarf, Thorin, remained silent throughout, though he looked pained at the name, 'Smaug', as did Fith.

"So," She began slowly, "You want _me _to help defend this group of halfwits as they reclaim their homeland, Erebor, from a _dragon?_"

The two nodded.

Frowning a little, she continued, "And so you're a king," She gestured to Thorin, who shook his head.

"Not until I reclaim Erebor," he said.

"Uh huh," She said, not really listening to him. "And you... are... Gandalf the Grey?" The wizard smiled.

Rubbing her temples, she muttered, "That's a lot to take in, you know."

"We understand," Gandalf said, "But we're also limited by time, and so you must make up your mind quickly."

Nodding, she had one piece of information left that needed answering. "What's in it for me?" She asked, purposely ignoring Thorin's scowl.

Leaning on his staff, the Wizard said, reminding her of his explanation, "Erebor is notorious for its riches. You would be paid generously for your servitude, as well as having our gratitude. Think of it as another one of your jobs, but where the pay is _much_ better."

Fith could only imagine. It would be hard to refuse such an offer, especially when growing tired of seeking uneventful jobs with poor pay, and _yet_, something still put her off.

Pushing her hand through her hair, she said, "Look, I'm not sure yet. I haven't made up my mind."

Peering behind him, Gandalf said," Maybe this will help convince you."

While Thorin left to gather the others, Gandalf had already started to lead Fith to his destination. Not far from where they had been standing in the clearing before, a cave existed. The walk to it was only very short, and it wasn't long before the two were standing in its entrance.

"Is this what I think it is?" Fith asked, trying hard to contain her excitement.

He nodded. "A troll hoard," He confirmed, "Be careful what you touch."

No longer listening to him, she took small steps in, and noted gleefully that the place was filled with gold coins, and other treasures in various caskets. It was like walking into several years worth of pay, all in a single moment.

"I can never find these," She told Gandalf, who was watching her carefully, "Although I always try. Some of this stuff is priceless, though I'm sure I could find a good price for it on the market."

"Oh, what's that stench?!" The place began to fill with other dwarves, who looked just as hungry as she did, though less excited. As the crowds within it grew, Gandalf lost sight of Fith. Thorin, who had made his way next to the wizard, was sure to note this to him.

"I told you," He pointed out, "She has only one thing on her mind: gold. If we include her on this quest, then I assure you, she'll prove to be a liability. I won't have such reckless behaviour in my company, Gandalf."

The wizard sighed. "Unfortunately, Thorin, we don't have much choice. We'll just have to hope that this journey helps to reform her greed."

Elsewhere, Fith was pocketing as much gold as her boots, satchel, and dirk could carry, ignoring the complaints of the other dwarves. When she noticed Gandalf watching her, she walked over to where he and Thorin stood.

"I'll do it," She told them. "I'll join your quest."

—-

**Notes:**

_Gelek menu caragu rukhs! - You smell like orc dung!_


	3. Chapter 3

Speaking over his shoulder as they moved through the cave, Gandalf told Fith, "It's important that you find the means to fit in, and so to help, you should learn the following names."

Gesturing to three dwarves- each on their hands and knees while furiously burying gold- he smiled, and said, "This is Nori," while pointing at the one on the left. She instantly recognised him as the one with the killer hair do, who had helped her up before during the troll attack.

"This is Bofur." He had no need to point out which dwarf it was. With a huge grin, he jumped up and began to shake Fith's hand enthusiastically; he then threw several questions at her before laughing at her flummoxed expression. Weakly, she noticed that he was distinguishable by the hat he wore.

"And this is Gloin," Gandalf finished, still smiling. The dwarf, however, simply scowled at her. She nodded at each of them, introduced her name and her former occupation (which caused Gloin's scowl to grow, Nori's expression to darken, and Bofur's smile to fall) before allowing the wizard to drag her off to the next group.

The impact of her actions was only beginning to sink in. Suddenly, she had gone from a lone mercenary to a member of what they called the Company of Thorin. Never having been one for commitment, this kind of freaked her out.

And the names! How was she supposed to remember them all?

"Bofur..." She muttered under her breath, "Gloid? No, ergh, Gloin, and Nori?"

"Ah," Gandalf announced. "Here is Bifur. Bifur, meet Fith. She's the newest addition to our company."

Fith didn't know what alarmed her the most: the sudden- and somewhat aggressive- onslaught of Khuzdul, or the axe protruding from the dwarf's head.

"_Gamut manun_!" He cried, waving his hands fervently.

Turning to look at Gandalf, she found him watching the dwarf happily. "Polite, isn't he Fith? Yes, and you too, Bifur."

"_Gamut manun_," She muttered, not knowing where to look. She was not one to be easily grossed out, but the axe was making her uncomfortable. It seemed amusing to her that neither Gandalf nor the others had thought it worth explaining. Perhaps when she 'fitted in' she would ask Bifur for the account over a drink.

It took a while for this session of theirs to conclude, and Fith was suffering from one hell of a headache after tackling the various oris and urs in the group. She knew for a fact that she'd never remember their names, but at this point her plan was to simply ignore them, and therefore evade the problem. It seemed the best option.

They had little time to themselves after that. Now that the matter of gold had been sorted, the priority landed on whatever weaponry they could find. During her encounter with the troll, Fith had managed to lose several smaller ones, including a few daggers, a slingshot, and a miniature axe. And though her sword- reliable, but ageing all the same- had made it through, Fith thought it best to re-equip.

Most of the stuff was pretty terrible. If it wasn't completely broken then it was probably blunt. In Fith's view, it was the kind of rubbish they'd try to fob you off with in the markets that she would deal with when times were hard. Cheap and lousy. Although, she had to admit, there _were_ a few small pieces that seemed okay, and so she pocketed them. After all, it wouldn't hurt to be over prepared.

But there was one thing that caught her attention pretty quickly. Unlike the others- who were focused more on the sword, spears, and axes- she decided to check out the defences. In a corner, which smelt particularly bad, a huge shield (almost half the size of her) was sat, ageing under the layer of dust that had gathered on top of it. It must have been beautiful once, but age had caused the green paint to fade, and the black markings that had once been words to grow unrecognisable. Still, it proved useful. She picked it up, and practised a few strokes with her sword. Because of it, her movements were now awkward under its size and weight, but she hoped that practise would soon ease it.

She turned to find Thorin and Gandalf talking between themselves. The wizard seemed impatient, the dwarf stubborn, and both were equally irritated with one another.

"You could not wish for a finer blade," Gandalf firmly reminded him.

Thorin's darkened expression only softened a little. Almost reluctantly, he drew the sword from its sheath- though whether to inspect it, or just to remove the cobwebs, Fith didn't know. Gandalf gave him an insufferable look before walking off.

Nodding, Thorin shouted, "Let's get out of this foul place. Come on, let's go. Bofur! Gloin! _Nori_!"

"What's that?" Fith turned to find the blonde haired dwarf- whose name was what, Fili?- staring at the shield with confusion. His brother, Kili, stood a little way behind him.

Passing it from one hand to the other, she said, "It's a shield, obviously. Why?"

"Can I hold it?"

She felt a little taken aback by his request, but shrugged. "If you really want to."

It was an awkward exchange, and Fith had a feeling that this was merely an attempt to start up a conversation. The two seemed to be impressed with her choice, though.

"Bit heavy, isn't it?" Kili asked, watching his brother try to balance it. "Better hope there's no need to break out into a run or you'll be exhausted, though the colours are practical," He said, scanning the thing. After a pause, he added, "My uncle told me that you're a mercenary, is that why-"

"_Something's coming!" _Thorin yelled, interrupting them.

It took a slap to Fili's shoulder to remind him about her shield. Not really concentrating on her, he ended up half-throwing it back, (which, considering its weight, was not pleasant at all). It was up to Kili to give her an apologetic look as they each trotted after Thorin, who had already made his way out of the cave's opening.

"Stay together! Hurry now," The wizard warned each dwarf who passed him. "Arm yourselves."

They each obeyed him. Even the hobbit had drawn his newly equipped sword. It was a strange sight for Fith to see, and a new one too. Never had she encountered a hobbit trying to fight.

Noticing his blanched complexion, she leaned over and whispered, "You're not going to faint, are you? With this shield, I'm indisposed to catching you."

As though unable to open his mouth, he remained silent, and only shook his head in response to what she said. Slapping his back kindly, she drew out her own sword and held it out.

There was a sudden movement in the bushes. Before any of them could so much as react, a rabbit-drawn sled had pulled its way through the bushes at top speed. On top of it, a short little man was yelling, "Thieves! Fire! Murder!"

At the sight of the dwarves, hobbit, and wizard, the rabbits came to an abrupt stop, and Gandalf, having recognised the little man, cried, "Radagast! Radagast the Brown. Ah. What on earth are you doing here?"

Next to Fith, the hobbit muttered, "The other wizard, of course."

Turning on him, she asked, "He's a _wizard_?" Staring disdainfully at Radagast, she added, "I thought wizards were supposed to be...- Is that bird poo in his hair?"

"Apparently," He replied. They looked at each other in equal confusion.

Meanwhile, the conversation between the two wizards had passed on quickly.

"Oh, just give me a minute," The newly arrived wizard said, sounding quite flustered. "Um, oh, I had a thought, and now I've lost it. It was, it was right there, on the tip of my tongue!" He curled up his tongue, and looked surprised.

"Oh," Radagast continued, sounding excited, "It's not a thought at all! It's a silly old-," Gandalf retrieved a stick insect from Radagast's mouth, (much to Fith's dismay), "-stick insect!"

Looking concerned at his friend's behaviour, Gandalf had pulled him away from the group for a private talk. Left to entertain themselves, the dwarves tried to ignore the wizard's inexplicable behaviour.

"You're a mercenary then, I hear," Dwalin said, eyeing Fith carefully. She had learned over the course of the last few hours that he was one to speak his mind plainly, and her occupation clearly troubled him. A few other dwarves, having overheard their conversation, turned to stare at her.

"I am," She replied cooly. "What's it to you?"

He looked down at her- bearing in mind that he was the tallest in the group- with contempt. Fith was getting used to that look. It would seem that most, if not all, of this group has some grudge against mercenaries, the older ones more so, and were taking it out on her. Considering the fact that she was too young to have assisted the dwarves in any way back then, Fith found this unfair, and just because she charges those for her sword doesn't make her disloyal, but she made no attempts to complain.

Even then, though, why should she be blamed for earning a living the only way she knew how?

Suddenly, there came a howl from somewhere nearby. Everybody froze.

Bilbo looked anxious. "Was that a wolf?" He asked. "Are there- are there wolves out there?"

_If only,_ thought Fith.

"Wolves?" Bofur said, gripping his mattock nervously. "No, that is not a wolf."

Behind them, on a nearby crag, a Warg appeared. Before any of the dwarves could react, it had thrown itself into the heart of the Company, taking down a dwarf on its way. Sobering before the others, Thorin struck it with his sword, killing it instantly. With no time for cheering, another Warg bounded in from the other side. A dwarf- Fith found it hard to recognise him from over here. Kili perhaps?- used his bow and arrows to shoot the thing, taking it down. This worked only briefly, for the beast was back on its feet, only to then be killed by Dwalin.

"Warg-Scouts!" Thorin announced, looking at the beasts' corpses. "Which means an Orc pack is not far behind."

It seemed that the hobbit had read Fith's mind. "Orc pack?" He asked.

Gandalf turned on Thorin. "Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?"

"No one."

Clearly losing his patience, the wizard cried, "Who did you tell?"

"No one, I swear," Thorin repeated. "What in Durin's name is going on?"

"You are being hunted."

A swell of hatred began to grow in Fith. Orcs she would gladly kill, if given the chance. Even a small pack like this, which she assumed it to be, would help quench her need for retribution.

So when a worried Ori, one of the youngest of the Company, cried, "We have no ponies; they bolted," she thought to herself, _let them attack, we'll easily take them on. _

The wizard, Radagast, however, had an entirely different idea. "I'll draw them off," He declared, gesturing to his sled while looking excited.

In contrast, Gandalf looked unhappy. "These are Gundabad Wargs," He reminded his friend, "They _will _outrun you."

Sounding almost offended, Radagast replied, "These are Rhosgobel _Rabbits_; I'd like to see them try."

And so Fith found herself- along with the others- watching the mad wizard shoot out of the forest, swiftly followed by a number of Wargs chasing him, from behind a rock. A distant, "_Come and get me! Ha ha!_" could be heard from afar.

In spite of the fact that Fith was used to going days without sleep, she could have cried from exhaustion when Gandalf shouted, "Come on!" and forced them to break out into a run.

Despite being weighed down by their clothing and weapons (and for Fith, her new shield), they moved at a considerable speed. It would seem that the far off howls, as well as the prospect of another fight, was enough to push them forwards.

Fith would have admired Thorin for watching after his people carefully had it not brought his attention to her and her newly acquired benefaction.

Having seen the way the shield slowed her down, he bellowed at her to: "Leave it!"

But she was stubborn, and knew that while the others followed him out of loyalty, as well as for the fortune, she had no care for him, nor his status. After all, it had been Gandalf who hired her. His commands meant nothing.

And so, gritting her teeth from the effort, she forced herself to move faster, although she could tell that her body would soon be regretting it. Surprisingly or not, there seemed to be some form of bliss- or the closest thing to it considering the running- when she could no longer hear his shouts.

In the meantime, Thorin had made his way to the front. As they approached another set of large rocks, those at the front stopped, and when Fith- who had fallen to the back again- had finally caught up, she watched, frozen firmly to the ground, as Radagast's sleigh passed then, swiftly followed by the Wargs.

They were visible across these plains. Those sat upon the Wargs- surely Orcs- would only have to turn their heads to see their prey standing helplessly.

It was Gandalf who focused them back to the situation.

"Stay together," He cried, gesturing to the rocks with his staff.

"Move!" Thorin shouted, waiting for the others to get going before he too sprinted off.

Everybody was clearly panicking now. Not only were there more Wargs than originally anticipated- making Fith grateful for not having to fight them like she would have preferred to- but the running, on top of last night's events, had weakened the group. A fight would prove fatal, and everybody knew it.

And so they forced themselves toward a huge boulder, all the while led by Thorin, who then stopped abruptly to hide everybody behind it. Ori, however, had kept running.

"Ori, _no!_" Thorin shouted, grabbing hold of the smaller dwarf and throwing him back to safety, _"Come back!"_

Fith took this time to lean against the rock, gasping heavily. The idea of running further made her feel sick.

That didn't stop Gandalf from shouting, "Come on! _Quick!_" and starting the sprint up again.

One of the dwarves came up to her, sounding breathless. "Thorin's right, you know," He said, looking tired. "The shield's slowing you down. You should leave it."

Fith felt bad for forgetting his name, but shook her head stubbornly. "I won't. I'm keeping it," She insisted.

The dwarf shook his head at her unbending attitude, but ran alongside her. Gandalf, who looked tired and unhappy, followed suit, and Thorin moved quickly beside them. It didn't take long to catch up with the others.

However, Gandalf's cry of, "Thorin, one has picked up our scent!" halted the whole group. The suspense of waiting for the dwarf to confirm it was nail-biting. Fith was aware that her heart, which was beating erratically, could probably be heard from afar.

"He's right!" Thorin shouted, running back to them. "Quickly, behind here."

They each took cover behind an outcropping of rock, trying hard not to breathe heavily. It soon became clear that they were no longer alone. Sniffing deeply, a Warg was beginning to pick up their scent from up above. Several dwarves, including Fith, winced at this.

Giving Kili a look that seemed to say, "_Well, go on then," _Thorin nodded at him. In response, the young dwarf readied an arrow, breathed deeply, then quickly stepped out and, with perfect aim, shot the Warg in the chest. However, it didn't prove fatal, and it was Kili's second arrow that prevented it from calling out.

Both fell off the rock, nearly crushing the dwarves who stood underneath. Dwalin and Bifur quickly ran forwards, noticing that both creatures were vulnerable as they attempted to stand up. It took quite a number of heavy- and extremely loud- blows to silence them forever, but it was soon done, and Fith felt relieved, imagining that their troubles were surely over.

The hobbit however, resumed looking anxious. "They'll have heard that, surely," He told Gandalf, who grimly nodded.

Nobody dared breathe as they each listened out for a change in the Wargs' howls. It took a while, but it was Gandalf who noticed first.

"Move. _Run_!"

The terrain around them swiftly changed as they charged their way through. Going from a rocky plain to a grassy one, the difficulty of moving through it remained high, and Fith wondered, with humour, whether death would be a kinder fate. After all, it wasn't heard off for dwarves to outrun Wargs.

She then speculated whether her former group- from many years ago- had endured the same thing. Probably. It would be best not to dwell on such a bad memory, especially not if this was to be her last thought.

The Wargs could be seen now, they were getting that close. They were coming from all directions, cleverly encircling them- though they still had far to go before reaching the dwarves- and the feeling of being trapped was beginning to suffocate Fith.

"This way! Quickly!" Gandalf shouted.

But they made little distance. Having reached a clearing, they all realised that there was no escape, having been successfully closed in. It felt as though the number of Wargs were increasing.

Which was then confirmed by Kili, who declared, "There's more coming!" while running back to the group. It was then that Fith began to understand that they were in some serious trouble, the kind that got people killed.

This had been the third near-death experience that she had gone through in just a day. Had she of guessed that the dwarves would bring this amount of misery and bad luck then she could have refused the wizard and been making her way back.

"_We're surrounded_!" Fili proclaimed.

Fith withdrew her sword.

His brother, Kili, began shooting at the Wargs, killing a few. He turned, and raised the question, "_Where is Gandalf?"_

"He has abandoned us!" Came the first theory.

Each dwarf, and Bilbo, of course, gathered close. Ori took the oppurtunity to shoot a rock at one of the Orcs using his slingshot but this had, unsurprisingly, little effect.

Unsheathing his sword, Thorin cried, "Hold your ground!" to increase their morale. The Wargs were in spitting distance. Had they all come this far to be killed off now?

How ironic, Fith thought bitterly, to have survived one pack of Orcs only to be hunted down by another.

_Keep your eyes on them_, she thought to herself. Though neither Orcs nor Wargs were a part of her job, they would, however little, be subject to a sharp sword, and so she held hers out threateningly, while slowly backing up. Because of this,she never saw the wizard poking his head up from a crack in a nearby rock, but she did hear him shout, "This way, you fools!"

"Come on, move!" Thorin yelled. "Quickly, all of you! Go, go, go!"

As the Wargs approached, the dwarves closest to the rock would turn and slide into a cave before the rock. When Fith, for just a single moment, turned around, she saw Thorin kill a Warg when it got too close.

"Kili!" He cried. "Run!"

"Fith!" It was Fili's turn to shout. He was stood right above the cave's entrance. "Stop watching them and get in!"

She obliged happily, running towards the opening and jumping into it. She slid down easily onto a pile of dwarves, (who groaned under her weight). It wasn't long until they got their payback. Both Thorin, Kili, and Fili ended up landing on top of _her_, which, after all that running, was extremely painful.

It had been a while, and certainly the first time in the last couple of hours, but Fith witness Gandalf counting them all looking happy. Even Thorin wasn't frowning as much as usual, although his expression darkened when a prestigious sounding horn was sounded from above.

Although they couldn't see it, they could all hear the sound of conflict taking place from the clearing. Straining her ears, Fith was sure that she could hear horses, and that the Orcs were clearly losing.

This was confirmed when a dead orc- shot down by an arrow- fell into the clearing, landing on top of the others. Disgusted, those near it kicked the corpse away from them. Thorin made a show of going over to it and pulling the arrow out. He looked at it with disdain.

"Elves," He spat.

They turned to see Dwalin standing by another entrance, where a trail led them away from this part, looking confused. "I cannot see where the pathway leads. Do we follow it or no?"

"Follow it, of course!" Bofur exclaimed.

Nodding appreciatively, Gandalf said, "I think that would be wise."

Fith groaned silently, and wiped her arm across her forehead roughly. Using this quick break to stretch (and try hard not to whimper from the pain), she then went to pick up her shield and backpack, but someone else got there first.

It was Kili. "Are you feeling all right?" He asked, handing her stuff over, "You don't look too good. Here, let me, I can carry your shield for a bit."

Nodding gratefully, she told him, "I'll be fine, honestly, I just need a long and peaceful sleep."

—-

_Gamut manun- _Good day

**Notes:**

This is ridiculously long, I apologise! It was a horror to write, and this chapter must be my worse, but I look forward to developing Fith more at Rivendell, you know, when she actually gets a chance to communicate with the others! Thanks for putting up with me until now! :)


	4. Chapter 4

But she was wrong.

She wasn't okay, and to her horror, she fainted as they made their way through the chasm. It was lucky that they were all stood so packed together otherwise she would have hurt herself. Instead, she landed on Dwalin- whose expression only darkened- halting the company to a stop.

As always- for this was not uncommon in her day-to-day life- it passed as quickly as it came, and she was desperate to be on her way and pretend it never happened, even if it meant threatening Oin to quit his frantic examinations. By that point, everybody was watching her as if they were afraid that she would faint on them again, and it was only Thorin who actually pushed his way through the small crowd to see if she was okay (besides Oin, of course), but Fith refused to meet his eyes, annoyed with herself for appearing so delicate.

She expected a snarky comment, but he said nothing, only offering her his arm. The rest of the company took steps back, (which was difficult, considering the size of the pathway), allowing her the space to get back onto her feet. Thorin's expression, however, had remained sullen despite his sudden act of aid: it seemed that he was just as displeased, if not more, about her presence.

"We must make haste," He reminded her, as if she was deliberately trying to slow the whole group down, as if she was _enjoying_ herself on this claustrophobic path. "If you would like someone to help you with your-"

"There's no need," She interrupted him, matching his glower. "I can manage." Fith knew that she would rather carry the entirety of the equipment than admit otherwise.

Thorin nodded, turned to look at the rest of his company, and barked, "We continue."

In haste, they all grabbed hold of their stuff, having used Fith's incident for a small break, and quickly followed suit, looking relieved at not having to carry her stuff. Overall, however, their responses to her were sympathetic. Several of the dwarves, as well as the hobbit, made sure to give her a comforting squeeze on her arm while encouraging her quietly; Bofur even cracked a few jokes, helping to distract her from the hell hole that was this journey through the rocks.

She wondered where it led to, and several times she tried to ask the others around her but it seemed that nobody other than the wizard, (who was strolling through cheerfully with the rest following suit,) knew where it was they were heading to. Not even Thorin. But they had little choice now. Whatever it was at the end of the path would have to be a lot closer to them now than the entrance back where the wargs were.

Feeling especially bare without her shield- which had remained safe all this time with Kili- and having nothing else to distract herself with, she decided to try and get it back.

So when Bombur needed help getting out of an especially tight corner- which required the strength of most of the dwarves- she used this interruption to sort it out.

Distracted by the drama going on behind them, he didn't hear her approach until she was stood right beside him.

"Oh," He started, his surprise instantly lifting to a warm smile. "Are you feeling well?"

She nodded, "Yes, I feel much better," She lied convincingly, or so she thought. Fith still felt _horrible_, her head burned, making her mind feel like a ball of cotton, while her body ached. Both the lack of food and sleep, on top of today's events, were taking its toll on her health today, and it was shortening her already frail temper. "Better enough to take this," She reached for her shield, but Kili moved it away.

Frowning, he said, "I don't think you should take it, not just yet anyway. I'll carry it for a bit longer, at least until you look well enough."

"Kili, please," She pleaded. When that didn't work, she flared up. "It's _mine_," She said quietly, fiercely, "And I want it back."

In the meantime, Bombur had been freed with great difficulty, and now the others had resumed making their way forwards. Fith heard Gandalf claim that they were nearly at their destination. Thorin then questioned, for the several hundredth time, where it was they were going, and the wizard simply ignored him, as he had done each time before. Fith and Kili found themselves having to quickly trot after the group in order to catch up.

"I said no," Kili retorted, his tone remaining just as quiet, but firm, as Fith's. The two glared at one another. "And you're not doing any good pestering me. I've made up my mind."

"Ah, _ozirum menu seleku_," She muttered, and stormed off. He sniffed at her insult.

The hobbit, Bilbo, had awkwardly made his way over to where she walked, brooding, and said in a nervous tone, "Now it's my turn to ask if _you're_ going to faint, although I too am indisposed to catching you." It was meant merely to cheer her up but she refused to cooperate and, sensing this, he scuttled off.

Stupid dwarves and their _stupid_ sense of right and wrong, Fith thought. If it wasn't for them, she would be walking through the open air with the wind blowing off her face, all the while debating what to do with her newly earned cash. If it wasn't for them, she wouldn't have to feel so cooped up. If it wasn't for them-

"I can feel a breeze," Ori announced, sounding confused.

As if unable to breathe from anticipation, they all froze in their tracks, not one making a single sound. Fith closed her eyes, wishing fervently over and over again, and then she felt it, a soft wind brushing her face, making her feel just that little bit better.

The others had felt it too, for they were all whooping with joy.

Gandalf was peering at them all while holding his staff. "See, I told you," He said, sounding clearly amused.

It didn't take long for them to resume their journey, and this time they all walked with more enthusiasm. It seemed that the prospect of fresh air, and a sense of adventure, was enough to provide them all with a newly found sense of energy. Even Fith felt the excitement pushing her forwards (along with the last of her adrenaline), but she also knew that it wasn't enough and that she couldn't hold out for much longer.

_She was too weak for that. Inadequate and feeble. She was weak, weak, weak_.

But her trail of thoughts ended when the pathway did. At the sharp corner, she felt both herself, and the hobbit, falter at the sight before them. Never, in either of their lives, had they seen such beauty. It was exceptional, incredible, and that, along with the refreshing breeze, brought about a sense of serenity.

Even the others were speechless, only capable of gaping at the sight, mouths open and everything. Only Gandalf and Thorin remained cool about it, although for different reasons. The dwarf was clearly unhappy with where they were, and Gandalf carried an air of someone who had seen such a sight on multiple occasions, and was therefore used to it; but Fith knew that it wouldn't matter how many times she saw this place, she would never be accustomed to its beauty.

"The valley of Imraldis," Gandalf told them impressively, walking over, "In the Common Tongue, it's known by another name."

It was Bilbo, who finished his words. "_Rivendell_," He breathed.

They took a moment to take that piece of information in.

"Here lies the last Homely House east of the sea," The wizard continued.

While the others stood watching the scenery, almost dumbfounded, it seemed that both Gandalf and Thorin were bickering _yet again_.

"This was your plan all along," The dwarf accused him, sounding angry, "To seek refuge with our enemy."

Looking disgruntled, Gandalf replied, "You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill-will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself."

Bilbo's eyes flickered, betraying himself.

Not noticing this, Thorin continued, apparently unable to bear Gandalf's rebukes, saying, "You think the elves will give our quest their blessing? They _will_ try to stop us."

Airily, Gandalf told him, "Of course they will. But we have questions that need to be answered. If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact and respect and no small degree of charm-"

He started to make his descent.

Sensing Thorin's bemusement, he turned to add, "-Which is why you will leave the talking to me."

The scenery was beautiful but difficult to move through. It would seem that the elves here had never been made to carry huge bulks of heavy equipment while balancing across their small, delicate bridges and narrow paths. Fith promised herself that she would let them know what parts in particular to renovate if she ever reached the housed alive.

But apart from that, Fith was not alone in gazing awe-stricken at the place. The hobbit was concentrating more on the scenery than where he was walking, but luckily for him he encountered no problems, nor did he fall off anything. Only the other dwarves looked uneasy as a number of elves strolled past them.

As they stepped into an opening before the grand house, a dark-haired elf had made his way down the flight of stairs to greet them.

"Mithrandir," He called, and the wizard instantly recognised him.

"Ah," He said, "Lindir!"

As the two greeted each other, the dwarves, growing impatient, began to murmur amongst themselves in distrust. Elves, it would seem, were hated by this group in particular. Fith decided not to question this, but knew from previous experiences with elf benefactors that they could be trusted to an extent.

Since none of the others could speak Elvish, Lindir's next comment was useless, and only made them feel more suspicious. Thorin was whispering furiously to Dwalin.

Gandalf, sensing their suspicion at the use of a foreign language, switched back, and said, "I must speak with Lord Elrond."

Looking apologetic to Gandalf, and uncomfortable at the dwarves' hostility, he said, "My lord Elrond is not here."

"Not here?" The wizard asked, looking surprised. "Where is he?"

Before Lindir could reply, a horn- sounding very similar to the one from before- could be heard. They all turned to see a group of armed horsemen quickly approaching the company.

Instinct kicked in to the older dwarf, and Thorin yelled, "Ready weapons! Hold ranks!"

Fith found herself being dragged back as the dwarves formed a tight circle with their weapons pointed outward. Next to her, the hobbit looked nervous, especially when the elves, sat upon huge horses that towered over them, circled their group in a threatening manner. Their size was pretty intimidating.

This meant little to the wizard, who was quickly recognised. "Gandalf!" One of the elves exclaimed, looking happy.

Bowing carefully, the wizard replied, "Lord Elrond," in a matching tone, and began a torrent of elvish, which again, no one else could understand.

Some of the dwarves looked expectantly at her.

Holding her hands out defensively, she said, "Don't look at me, it's not as if I can speak the language. I'm a mercenary, not a scholar."

Their confusion only increased when the elf, Lord Elrond, dismounted and hugged Gandalf. Fith had been right, this was not this wizard's first visit. Next to her, Thorin looked betrayed.

"Strange for Orcs to come so close to our borders," The elf said. This caught the company's interest now that they could understand him. "Something, or someone, has drawn them near." As if to further prove his point, he held out an Orc sword to show the group before handing it to Lindir.

"Ah," Gandalf said with an easy smile, "That may have been us."

Impatient, Thorin took a step forward, and looking up, it seemed that Elrond had recognised him.

"Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain," He said with polite esteem.

Looking sullen, the dwarf replied shortly, "I do not believe we have met."

"You have your grandfather's bearing," Elrond continued. "I knew Thror when he ruled under the Mountain."

Raising his eyebrows, Thorin took this opportunity for an insult. "Indeed; he made no mention of you." Behind the dwarf, Fith could see Gandalf roll his eyes at that.

The elf had, however, ignored the jibe, and instead turned to speak to Lindir in elvish.

Again, they had no clue what he was saying, and their suspicion reached its ultimate peak.

"What is he saying?" Gloin inquired, sounding fierce. "Does he offer us insult?"

There was a ripple in the group where they had- excluding Fith, Bilbo, and Gandalf- grabbed their weapons uneasily.

Sounding exasperated, Gandalf exclaimed, "No, master Gloin, he's offering you _food_."

At that, they turned to talk to themselves. Thorin sounded uneasy, but torn. The others needed no further persuasion. As quickly as they had turned, their answer had been founded.

"Ah well," Gloin started, looking a little embarrassed, "In that case, lead on."

And so they were, at Elrond's courtesy. They were promptly led through the house- which was easily just as elegant on the inside as it was on the outside- to a number of rooms for their stay. Because of the sheer number of the company, most has to share in twos or threes but to Fith's relief she was given her own room.

She stayed only long enough to hear the elf say, "Dinner will be served within the next few hours. For now, rest," before retiring without another word to any of the others.

The first thing that she noticed about her quarters was its cleanliness. In her lifetime she could never afford to stay somewhere so pleasant, usually because she could never spare enough cash, and so this was a change to the usual small, grubby rooms that she would pay for at local taverns. Everything looked so fresh and clean that she was almost afraid to take another step, or even put her stuff down, in fear that she would make it dirty. Eventually, however, her tiredness won her over, and she dumped her stuff onto the floor, before kicking off her boots; she forgot about the gold that she had stuffed in eagerly only hours before, and cursed herself as she bent down to pick all the pieces up. Once done, she prioritised herself into getting undressed. First came the removal of her leathers and small bits of cheap armour, then the various tunics and pieces of ragged cloth that kept her warm until finally, all that was left were her breeches and soft, billowy top.

With perfect timing as always, there was a knock on the door. She opened it uneasily, and was surprised when an elf pushed her way into the room.

"My lady," She said, bowing her head graciously to a very confused Fith.

Awkwardly, the dwarf cleared her throat at this unexpected behaviour. "It's Fith," She assured her. "I'm no lady."

"As you wish," The elf replied, walking over towards Fith's clothes. "My Lord Elrond asks if you would like something. Some refreshments perhaps? A hot bath? We can even wash your clothes for you," She added, gesturing to the dirty heap on the floor.

Fith felt bad about the mess, especially against such a beautiful room. "A bath would be nice, and a drink too, please," She said, still feeling confused about the way she was being treated.

The elf nodded, and turned to leave.

"Wait!" Fith called after her, awkwardly clearing her throat. The elf turned, eyebrows raised in expectation. "Thank Lord Elrond for me, would you?" The dwarf asked.

Again, the elf nodded, and this time she able to make it out of the room.

Alone once again, Fith looked at the bed with longing, but decided to wait until after she bathed. She was already proving herself to be a terrible guest, she wouldn't make it worse by ruining their furniture. Instead, she would explore the room.

It was huge, spacious, more than what she needed, but she still enjoyed it. Everything felt so soft- bar the wooden flooring and furniture- and she felt happy enough just to run her fingers over the bedding or the thin curtains that overlooked a waterfall. On the other side of the wall was a mirror.

Kili was right. She looked awful. According to her reflection, there were huge dark circles covering her eyes, emphasised further by how pale she was. Her hair, including her beard, was tangled and dirty, but that was to be expected. It was her face that alarmed her.

Later, after the elves had dragged in a wooden bath and filled it with hot water, Fith was able to explore the damage in more detail. It wasn't as bad as she had originally anticipated, more just a pattern of forming bruises, but the strange herbs the elves had added were helping with the pain, and by the time she had climbed out, Fith was feeling much better.

In the time it had taken to bathe, the elves had also cleaned her clothes for her, and the feeling of clean clothes after a cleansing bath had lifted her heavy mood.

All she wanted to do now was sleep, but she thought that it would be rude to ignore Elrond's company after he had treated her so well and so decided to head down to where the food was being served.

The others were already there, and by the looks of things- and the smell- they had declined Lord Elrond's offer of a bath. Instead, they were sat around the table, looking unhappy about what was being offered.

"Try it," Dori tried coaxing his brother, "Just a mouthful."

Grimacing at the bowl of salad in front of him, Ori shook his head. "I don't like green food," He insisted.

Dwalin, on the other hand, was searching through the bowls.

"Where's the meat?" He asked, sounding almost nervous. Next to him, Oin had picked up a vegetable with his knife, and was staring at it disgust.

"Have they got any chips?" Ori asked, looking around optimistically.

She decided to sit down, and the only spare chair left was besides Dwalin, who was too busy glaring at Kili to notice her. Interested, she watched the two to see what was happening.

Looking extremely guilty, Kili was blathering on. "I can't say I fancy elf maids myself," He said, trying to pull a convincing indifferent expression. "Too thin," He explained. Dwalin raised his eyebrows. "They're all high-cheek bones, and creamy skin-" Bofur grinned at him as he looked up in feign distaste at one, "-I want some facial hair for me. Although-" He nodded to one elf in particular walking past, "-That one there's not too bad."

Looking incredulous, Fith leaned in and muttered, all the while trying hard not to laugh, "That's not an elf maid."

Kili stared blankly as the elf turned around, revealing that he was not, in fact, an elf maid.

Dwalin winked, and the table erupted into laughter at Kili. As Fili lovingly reminded him, it wasn't something that they would forget any time soon, nor let him forget.

It would seem that Lord Elrond had gone all out for his unexpected guests. Around them, he had stationed various elves playing soft melodies on their wooden instruments, something that the dwarves could not take pleasure in. Oin in particular was not enjoying it, and instead stuffed a napkin into his hearing trumpet, looking proud of himself. The dwarves roared with laughter at this. The elves looked displeased.

Having just seized what happened to look like an ornate salt shaker, Nori winced as the elves started to play another tune, which remained as dreary and slow as the last seven ones.

"Change the tune, why don't you?" He complained. "I feel like I'm at a funeral!"

Startled, an even more deaf Oin exclaimed, "Did somebody die?"

"All right, lads," Bofur stated, "There's only one thing for it!" before jumping onto a plinth.

From there he started a tune that Fith recognised from before; it was a song sung by many drunkards if you gave them enough drinks at The Prancing Pony. A real cheerful, lively melody.

_"There's an inn, there's an inn, there's a merry old inn_

_beneath an old grey hill,_

_And there they brew a beer so brown_

_That the Man in the Moon himself came down_

_one night to drink his fill."_

The others, having also recognised the cheerful tune, started to bang their plates against the table in time to the dwarf's voice, laughing and singing along while they did so. All the elves had stopped what they were previously doing, and stared in confusion at their guests' rowdy behaviour. Meanwhile, the dwarves had now discovered that the bowl of vegetables could still be used, albeit by chucking it at Bofur's head. Fith could have sworn that she had hit him right between his eyes with a tomato.

_"The ostler has a tipsy cat_

_that plays a five-stringed fiddle;_

_And up and down he saws his bow_

_Now squeaking high, now purring low,_

_now sawing in the middle."_

Even Balin, who was usually so composed around the others, had joined in singing and making a real mess of the banquet. Thorin stood behind them; although he wasn't as enthusiastic as the others, he still joined in, stamping his foot appreciatively in time, all the while sending Elrond gleeful looks.

_"So the cat on the fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,_

_a jig that would wake the dead:_

_He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,_

_While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:_

_'It's after three!' he said."_

In triumph, they had roared with laughter, throwing great, big handfuls of salad into the air. Gandalf looked apologetic. Lindir looked pained. Elrond remained emotionless.

—-

_Ozirum menu seleku- _You couldn't forge a spoon


End file.
